


Need

by CrazyChicken



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyChicken/pseuds/CrazyChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Olivier had kissed him on the pitch, it had stirred him more than shocked him. It had raised hundred questions but answered thousand. He had given it a few months to sink but when they met again at the 2012 Eurocup he realised it wasn’t time he needed; it was Olivier and his body and his sweet French kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gunnerette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gunnerette/gifts).



> Written half a year ago as a birthday gift for the person who has grown to mean the world for me.
> 
> I'm still not really satisfied about it, but I guess I'll never be ;)

Touching.

Warm bodies, cold sheets.

Loud kisses.

Bare feet, legs entangled.

Damp hair.

Sweat covered necks.

The smell of a new hotel room.

Want. _Need._ Longing.

Far off celebrations.

Absence of time.

A ‘don’t disturb’ sign in a language neither spoke.

Distance.

It felt like a familiar setting, although they had never been in a similar situation.

“I missed you,” Mathieu whispered into Olivier’s neck and it was a little redundant, because he had been showing how much he had missed his lover well enough. A peck on his cheek, a hand on his butt, those endless stares in the bus. Pinching his hand because they shared a hotel room, after all this time. And when he had pushed his younger friend against the wall it hadn’t been a sign of anger; it was all the feelings that had been bottled up inside for too long.

When Olivier had kissed him on the pitch, it had stirred him more than shocked him. It had raised hundred questions but answered thousand. He had given it a few months to let it sink but when they met again at the 2012 Eurocup he realised it wasn’t time he needed; it was Olivier and his body and his sweet French kisses.

“Shut up,” Olivier commanded, removing his own shirt in one smooth movement, before taking off Mathieu’s. The latter looked up in surprise at his friend’s sudden outburst of anger, but then he saw the playful smile on his lips, and also the hunger, the passion, the _need_.

Taking of clothes while in bed wasn’t really Mathieu’s thing, he had to admit. It was so much easier to pull down your pants when you’re standing upright and they can fall to the ground without much ado. But for some reason, Olivier was really good at this, at getting the tight shirt over his head and on the ground, and moving his hands to his belt afterwards. He was good at savaging his neck and leaving marks while rubbing his chest with one hand and undoing his belt with the other and running his foot up Mathieu’s leg... there were so many spots, so many moves to focus on at one time, he had to close his eyes to feel them all.

Lost in the problem of how to feel everything, he had missed the amazing speed with which Olivier had unzipped and unbuttoned his pants, and was now sliding them off his legs. He felt free and exposed and lost, but then a pair of lips found their way back to his and all he felt was the need to have more, more of whatever Olivier could give him.

It felt like Olivier had three hands or four or even more, uncountable. And when he pushed down on Mathieu’s thigh and grinded their crotches together he saw an infinite amount of stars implode in front of his closed eyes.

Olivier’s lips vibrating against his ear took him by surprise. “Show me,” he whispered, gently sucking in the earlobe.

“What?” Mathieu asked confused.

“Show me how much you’ve missed me. Show me what you want to me to do. Show me what you _need_.”

“You know what I need.” He liked that Olivier was taking the lead, so he didn’t have to make any decisions. He liked just lying there and being made love to and enjoying it and maybe bear the pain – he had no experience, but his little research showed that it was painful too.

“Maybe.” Olivier’s lips were leaving soft kisses on the bruises in Mathieu’s neck. “But I need you to show me.”

Mathieu hesitated for one second, then decided to go with it, pressing his palms against Olivier’s chest, wrapping his legs around his waist and turning him on his back. He quickly laid a trail of sloppy kisses down Olivier’s torso, not having any time for real, proper kisses. Straddling his lap, he tried to be as smooth on his pants as his friend had been with his, but he failed and even the task of popping the button seemed like a frustratingly hard task.

“Let me help you,” Olivier laughed, wrapping his hands around Mathieu’s. And then, when he felt his friend was shaking: “Are you alright?”

He nodded, lying down next to Olivier to pull down his pants.

“Are you sure?” Olivier asked as he kicked the last piece of fabric of the bed.

“Listen, you prat. I’ve been waiting to this for three fucking months. If you think I’m going to back out now, you’re fucking delusional.”

Olivier could barely contain the smile that crept up on him. This was a side of his friend he didn’t know, but he rather liked sassy Mathieu. Sassy Mathieu, who had planted his nails in his sides, who was leaning down in the most erotic way thinkable, who was mouthing his cock through the fabric of his boxers, who was massaging the inside of his thighs. Who was slowly undressing him, inch by inch. Whose mere touch blocked every noise except their breaths and their heartbeats and the erotic sound of wet kisses on Olivier’s now bared hips and shaft.

Mathieu had seen this, had seen other guys do this so easily, as if it were nothing, but Olivier seemed so huge. He couldn’t take it all in at once, but even when his lips enveloped only the tip of his cock, he could feel Olivier shuddering beneath him. He rocked up his hips without warning and it made Mathieu gag a little – but hey, he was a man. He could handle this. Pinning his friend’s hips to bed, he lowered his mouth upon him. He could feel Olivier trying to buck his hips up again and he whimpered in frustration when he felt how Mathieu was keeping him down.

“Fuck, Matt... I need more.”

“Don’t be so impatient.”

Of course he hadn’t brought lube. Eight pairs of shoes, two suits and even a fishing net, yes; but who the hell brings _lube_ to the fucking European Championships? He looked around a bit, but if he had to look for oil, it could take ages and he didn’t feel like interrupting this... whatever they were doing. So instead he brought Olivier’s right hand to his mouth and started sucking on them, covering them with saliva.

“What are you doing?” Olivier asked, but he didn’t pull his arm away.

“Finding a way to prepare myself.”

“To prepare... ah.” He finally realised what was going on, and when he realised he was still getting lucky tonight, his face broke into a Cheshire Cat-like grin.

When Mathieu was done with the three fingers, he guided Olivier’s hand down, but he didn’t need any guidance. The latter was eager to get any body part inside of Mathieu. When they would talk about this later, of course, he would say he hadn’t gotten laid in a while and he just really needed to stick it up someone’s arse. But the truth was that all this, everything that was happening had nothing to do with penis, and everything with Mathieu.

Mathieu lay his forehead on Olivier’s chest, his eyes shut, as his friend (or lover?) poked at his entrance. He opened his mouth and softly bit Olivier’s nipple as he started counting. _One finger_. Of course he was perfectly capable of standing the pain. It wasn’t close to what he expected. _Two fingers_. He had to admit it was getting a bit harder now. He almost choked on his breath as he tried to scream and withhold a scream at the same time, and then he panted. _Three fingers_. This was hell. In that moment Mathieu swore he could not understand why anyone would want this, enjoy this. It was crazy, the pain did not outweigh the pleasure and he just wanted Olivier to get out.

“Relax,” he whispered, pressing a soothing kiss in his hair.

_You try to relax with three fingers up your ass!_ Mathieu wanted to shout out him, but instead he did as he was told. He commanded the muscles in his butt to relax and try to keep his breath steady when the fingers started moving inside of him, thrusting and twisting and then curling up...

And then a miracle happened. It felt good. It felt amazing. It felt as if he didn’t need much more than that simple touch, that weird thing Olivier did with his fingers, as if he had known Mathieu’s body inside and out for years. Of course it still hurt like hell, but somehow he felt like he could manage this, like he could stand this for another, say, four hours and be completely sore the next morning, but he felt like it would all be worth it, because this feeling was the best feeling he had ever know.

But wasn’t that what it always felt like when you were close to an orgasm?

When Olivier pulled his fingers out, Mathieu whined a little at the emptiness he was feeling, and Olivier used this distraction to turn them over again, so he was on top.

“Oh god, Oli, that was good,” Mathieu started. “But please try to be gentle when you – oh...” He never got to finish his sentence when Olivier filled him up, leaving him speechless, moving deeper inside of him and then drawing back again, making Mathieu crave for more, thrusting back and finding a pace; slow at first, but when Mathieu started babbling in incoherent French, he picked it up.

If he wasn’t so damn focussed on the beauty underneath him, he would have realised that the noise they were making could be heard in the rooms next to theirs; he would have also known that Franck wouldn’t care and Yohan would have his ear against the wall, afraid to miss anything.

Olivier had a way of surprising Mathieu with every movement, every trust, every new angle, every burst of feeling. When he felt himself nearing his climax, his hand reached down between their bodies to give Mathieu that last bit of extra sensation. They muttered incoherent obscenities and bit their lips until they bled and listened to the sound of skin hitting skin and their heads went blank and when Mathieu screamed Olivier’s name it sent both over the edge.

Olivier collapsed on Mathieu’s sweaty body and panted a few long moments before pulling out. A few minutes as they lay there catching their breath and smiling at each other, not saying anything.

Olivier was the first to break the silence. “I liked that.” He sounded a bit surprised, but it could also be the sleep slowly falling over him.

“I liked that too,” Mathieu replied, as Olivier held up the blanket for him and he crawled underneath. “I think I would like to do that more often.”

Olivier laughed as he crawled in too and wrapped his friend in his arms. “Seriously? You would like to?” He urged Mathieu on his side so he could spoon him. “I fucking _need_ to. I need to feel your body tight around me every single night of this summer.”

Mathieu let the sexiness of that line sink until he asked: “What about the fall?”

He didn’t get a reply but he could feel his lover’s heavy breath against his shoulder blades, and he knew he was asleep. He let pictures of the last thirty minutes flash through his mind and smiled, because he could feel Olivier holding him tight and pressing Mathieu back against his chest, and he realised that it definitely wouldn’t be over in the fall.


End file.
